The Story of the Seven

CHAPTER 31 - The Drunk Maiden

Meanwhile, a certain troublemaker was busing herself at home...

"Hah, that was easy,"

Amane remarked as she marveled over her feat – convincing her father to drink till he passed out. A bit of teasing and a bit of goading, coupled with pouring alcohol time and time again before he could empty his cup - that did the trick.

And what more evidence would you need than the father who was passed out, wheezing in his sleep while clutching at his liver, which had started to freak out over the unexpected torrent of liquor. He looked more sickly in his sleep than when he was awake, his face turning a shade of a bluish green reminiscent of the corpses you see in movies.

Amane hastily jammed her hands into her father's pockets and fumbled around, praying that she would find her loot. Her palms wanders for a while before finally pulled out a key. She grinned.

With her mother out and her father dead to the world, the key would enable her to finally try the spoils of war all to herself – liquor. Though all too common a sight for adults, it commands a sense of definite presence in the eyes of a teenager.

And as her family was operating a tavern, there were many varieties to choose from. To ensure protection, a Yale & Towne padlock, a vintage shipped all the way from America, was latched in place. Yet the lock was easily defeated when subjected to the keys stolen from the father. And with eyes like a youngster raiding a candy store, Amane swiftly analyzed the liquior.

She realized that there were three options - oriental, latino, or western?

Amane softly chuckled to herself as she read these absurd labels, no doubt the work of her father who viewed the world though a very unique lens. Her father, a self-proclaimed alcohol connoisseur, would always try to come up with "creative" ways to master the ways of the booze, whether it was through creating new "brands," brewing or fermenting his own alcohol, or inventing new cocktail recipes (all which almost always backfired spectacular).

Regardless, Amne softly caressed the hard bottles that were underneath the Oriental section – Baijiu, Shōchū, Cheongju, and the likes, taking off the bottle caps and taking a sniff or two. The smell was too strong, reeked too much of alcohol that she was momentarily put off.

Soon her hands wandered over to the latino bottles – tequilla, aguardiente, pisco, and rum. Yet none of those reached out to her heart; none of them commanded her attention with their radiant beauty. So once more, her hands wandered to find the perfect one, the one that called to her....

And there it was, hidden amidst the bottles of beer, brandy, and bourbon, was the fabled Grey Goose bottle of Vodka – surely bought for some grandeur celebration, for it was an alcohol designed for the rich and powerful, which her parents were neither of.

Yet poor little Goose – its life was coming to an end, not celebrated nor cherished in elegance, but rather stuffed down the gullet of some kid who couldn't tell cheap from fine...

"Hey! This is vodka – and I do remember my parents met at a Russian festival 😍 May this help me find a lover....."

With those words uttered, Amane opened the bottle and recoiled. As one may expect, vodka, no matter the brand, smells very much like alcohol. Yet blind with love, our maiden chugged down the contents of that bottle, in vain trying to ignore the searing, scorching burn in her throat.

Ah, ignorant youth, ignorant youth. Any woman or man worth their salt would know the fundamental basics of not chugging strong booze – yet it is surprising of how often lasses and lads pursue courses of action so contrary to common sense.

Anyways, the BAC levels in Amane's blood steadily climbed to lofty heights, 0.04, 0.09, 0.13, 0.21 – a pitiful end for a girl who willingly drank poison to find true love. The world turned blurry and started fading away for our heroine, the blood burning in her veins.

Yet as if by Heaven's will, a miracle occurred as the Goose suddenly flew out of the maiden's foul mouth – the alcoholic poison bursting back up, as Amane's stomach convulsed rapidly, imitating the sound of a steel pump being operated.

With a choke and a splatter, the BAC levels screamed down as it plummeted to safe levels, purged from the girl's body, spread out messily all over the floor...pungent fumes rising in the air...

It was a murder scene, call it if you will, if you were to murder a man whose blood was made of booze and half-digested foods.

Tranquility at last returned to the tavern, as all was calm again, and the maiden, in a stupor, slumped over and fell asleep, tired by the wild adventure she was thrust upon...

Little did she know what a pounding she was going to receive when her mother returns...for even if heaven can save a girl from drunken agony, it is powerless in the face of a woman...

One can only imagine the pitiful excuses she would make to save her skin: 

"It was dad!"